Every time you faint
by SomeoneOnThisWorld
Summary: Molly was a very strong person. At fourteen years of age, when a doctor took a blood example from her arm, she watched the process curiously. In medical school, she was the girl with an iron stomach, never bothered by anything displayed in front of her. So she was surprised when in her thirties, she fainted twice. And all because of the same man.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"If I wasn't everything you think I am, everything _I_ think I am, would you still want to help me?"

"What do you need?"

"You."

Molly never thought she would hear this. So, when Sherlock uttered this one little word, it was even more unexpected and shocking than when the doctor told her family that her only had a few months to live.

She wanted to gasp, but couldn't – she couldn't even take in a breath that would supply her with oxygen. She blinked a few times, but her vision was getting blurred. She swayed on her step and soon she felt herself falling. Quick and steady strong arms grabbed her body, but that didn't help her from blacking out.

...

Molly blinked a few times and was only able to notice three things. One, there was a bright white light in front of her. And she was lying down. On something cold, like a ... _Oh, god._

She jumped of the table she uses to cut open post-mortems. How did she get here? She was on her way out.

"Oh, good, you're finally awake."

She froze. Oh, right.

"Seriously, Molly, fainting? That a rather exaggerated move, isn't it?" Sherlock said, coming closer to her. He put his hands on her upper arms to keep her steady and felt her shudder under his touch. "Relax, I only need to check you, now that you're awake. Please don't faint again, it really isn't very convenient in this situation."

He lowered himself in the knees to have a better look at her face. She gulped as his eyes scanned her and remembered to breathe in and breathe out. The fingers of his right hand cupped her chin to move her head sideways and in the end up. He smiled at her, not moving away, though she was certain he wasn't very comfortable with the closeness.

"You'll survive," he said an moved away. "Now I need your mind on full alert, because we need to make sure I'll survive also."

"Um, y-yeah, sure ... What, um, h-how will we do that?" she stumbled over the words and Sherlock sighed.

"Molly, for a woman with your intelligence it's highly inappropriate to stutter like a child. Get your act together already and become that strong, independent woman I saw in the lab earlier today," he said and turned from her. Molly nodded, more to herself than to him. She can do this. She did it already, many times even.

"Only if you say please."

Sherlock turned around at the sound of her voice. His eyes pierced through her.

_Oh, god! Stupid Molly, you can't do this!_

And then he smiled. It was a small and a sad smile, but it was enough to show pleasure in finding that confident side of Molly once again.

"Please, Molly, will you help me fake my death?"

(A/N: here it is, I decided to take the fainting story as the first one on my list of sherlolly stories yet to write :) hope you enjoyed it!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It has been three months.

John was grieving, Mrs Hudson didn't give the 221B to anyone after John had moved out, and Lestrade still missed Sherlock while getting stuck on the traffic duty after the whole Sherlock Holmes incident. Even Mycroft, who visited each of them sometimes wasn't the same after he learnt his brother was gone.

And Molly Hooper was worried as hell.

She hadn't heard of Sherlock since the fall, not sure whether he was still alive or dead. He didn't even send her a text, though she confidently told him to do so before they parted – she guessed he either didn't hear her over the sound of the rising helicopter, or he saw it as a risk that would make him known to the world.

She went to the locker room to get her things and go out as quickly as she could. She opened the door and went to her locker. She unlocked and opened it. She put some files she was carrying on a shelf to be able to take of her lab coat, when she caught a shade behind her. She jumped and turn around and almost screamed, but then she slowly started to recognize the black curls and pale cheekbones.

"Sherlock?"

He gave her a small smile. She wasn't very good at deductions, but she could have sworn he was glad to see her.

"Hello, Molly."

Sherlock wasn't aware of how much he missed her, until she walked in, completely and utterly oblivious to his presence. Joy rushedthrough him as he watched her face expression change from shock, to relief and at last to ... Nausea?

He stepped forward just in time to catch her as she fell down, fainting once again.

"Oh, for God's sakes," he sighed and rolled his eyes before glancing down to the unconscious Molly. Her shoulders were in his hands and her face on his chest. He tried to put her down on the floor and wait for her to wake up – the last time she was out for 15 minutes so he guessed this was how long it should take –, but then he heard the locker room door open.

He had to think quickly. The woman who came in (obviously it was a female, since it was a women's locker room) couldn't know he was alive, but he couldn't just leave Molly lying on the floor. It would be too suspicious. So instead he decided to go with the best solution he could come up with.

He pinned the passed out Molly to the lockers, put her arms around his neck, while his landed on her waist and pressed his mouth on hers. He kept on kissing her mouth (and found the situation he found himself in making strange things going on in his body), until he heard steps of feet in high heels (five centimeters, the owner has them for about six months) come closer.

"Oh, um, I ..." A woman's voice stuttering trailed of. She stood there and after a moment she identified the woman Sherlock was kissing. She, of course, didn't pay any attention at all to the him. "Molly? Wow, I never expected you ... You can't bring your boyfriend in here!"

Molly's lips moved slightly against his and she moaned slightly.

"Oh, right," the woman said. By the ruffling of clothes Sherlock knew she crossed her arms on her chest. "Don't mind Mary Morstan. Just make out on her locker, of course she'll be fine with that. Jesus, get a room."

She left and only after the door closed behind her Sherlock tried to pull away. But the arms around his neck wrapped themselves tightly around them and he tensed up. Molly has woken up. And started to kiss him back.

He knew he should stop the kiss, but unlike his mind, everything else in his body enjoyed the sensation and thrill it sent through him as he kissed her back. Their lips moved around each other and soon Molly's fingers became intertwined in his soft curls and he pushed himself even closer to her, not getting enough of her closeness.

Molly loved to be woken up in such a way, because the man kissing her really knew what he was doing. But slowly she started to put the pieces together. She had woken up – from when she passed out. After she had seen Sherlock. Who was now kissing her.

Her yes flew wide open and in an instinct she pushed him away. He looked at her with a puzzled expression.

"I ... You ... Why- why did you kiss me?" she stuttered.

"A woman came in and I needed to make myself unseen. Also, she would think it highly strange to find you passed out on the floor," Sherlock stated as if nothing happened.

"But ... You kissed me!"

"While you were unconscious, yes. I meant to pull away after that Mary Morstan left, but you were the one who gripped herself on me and kissed me back," Sherlock answered.

Molly didn't know what to think. Her mind was racing and she couldn't focus on anything else other than their kiss.

"Wait, Mary walked in on us?" she asked.

"Well, technically I only made it look like she walked in on us, but yes, if you'd like to put it that way. Apparently we were "making out", as she put it, on her locker."

Molly giggled.

"At least now I got her back after walking in on her her and John," she said and Sherlock furrowed his brows in confusion, although his eyes sparkled with happiness at the mention of his friend.

"Her and _John_? John Watson?"

"They've been together for a month. She helped him get over that fall of yours," Molly nodded. Her words leaded into an awkward silence. Not just because the've just snogged each other senseless, but also because neither found the right way to start the conversation about him being back.

"I'm sorry I didn't text you." Molly looked up at him and he smiled at her sheepishly. "My phone fell into Loch Ness while I was trying to fight of some of Moriarty's men."

"You were at Loch Ness? Scotland?" Molly asked and her imagination invented a picture of Sherlock fighting of the Loch Ness monster.

"Yes, one of my first trails led me there," Sherlock shrugged. "It was in the first two weeks after I left. I didn't want to risk anything by buying a new phone ... I wanted, and tried, to write you a letter at some point, but never got enough free time to do it. I felt guilty, though. Just the thought of you worried ..."

He wasn't able to say another word when Molly took his face in her hands and pulled him down for another kiss. He returned it gladly, relieved that he could do it again. He enjoyed kissing her. Really, _really_ enjoyed...

She nibbled on his lower lip lightly and he moaned in pleasure. After that the kiss got more and more heated and they found themselves against the locker again, their tongues battling for dominance. Molly wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist to pull him even closer to her, while his hands rubbed up and down her sides.

"Okay, I think you should be done by now – Jesus! How do you two even breathe!" Mary's voice shrieked after walking in and finding the couple in the same place. "Come on, Molly, John is waiting for me. Could you just ... move, or something, so I can get my coat. Then you'll be free to even shag on the floor, for all I care!"

Sherlock, annoyed with Mary's rambling, simply slided himself and Molly against the lockers, so they ended up kissing two lockers away from Mary's. Molly giggled into their kiss, but didn't make any effort to break it. They heard Mary open and close the locker and leaving. They only broke apart for air once she was long gone.

"You know," Sherlock said breathlessly, as he pressed his forehead on hers, and smirked. "That mention of shagging on the floor seems like a good idea right now."

"It does, doesn't it?" Molly giggled, glad to get to know to this new side of Sherlock. She pecked him on the lips one more time and then put her feet on the floor. "But we were lucky it was only Mary who walked in on us. Next time we might not be so lucky."

"Hm, get a room then?" Sherlock asked, not letting Molly get away from him. He kissed her neck softly.

"I do live just around the corner," Molly smirked and Sherlock's eyes lit up, as if she announced Christmas to a child.

...

Mary walked out of St. Barts and found John waiting for her at the entrance. Her wide smile mirrored his as they approached each other. She kissed him on the lips lightly.

"Hello," John said. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, finally," Mary sighed. "Sorry for the wait, but I just witnesses the strangest thing."

"Oh?" John raised his eyebrows as he took a hold on her hand. "What was it?"

"Molly was making out with some dude in the locker room," Mary laughed. "Who would've thought she had it in her?"

"Molly Hooper?" John asked. "Wow, really?"

"Yeah, the man pinned her against the lockers and kissed her senseless. And he was definitely not just some guy from IT – I knew she could do better than those lazy farts," Mary said. "I didn't really see his face, but he was tall and lean and his hair was black and curly. I wouldn't be surprised if he turns out to be hotter than hell!"

John laughed.

"I think you shouldn't pay so much attention to that guy Moly was with, whoever he was, when you are talking to me," John joked, but the laughter soon dyed on his part. "The man you described ... It sounds a lot like ... _him_."

"Oh," Mary said and hugged her boyfriend over the waist. "I'm sorry, I didn't even realize."

"It's alright," John managed a smile, which soon turned into the first laughter he laughed while thinking of his best friend. "As much as I always hoped he will somehow see something more than just a pathologist, I doubt snogging Molly would be the first thing on his mind if he'd rise from the dead."

(A/N: this is it! I won't bother you with an author's not, so I just hope you liked it! :D)


	3. Chapter 3

Molly was woken up by knocking on the door of her apartment. She groaned, choosing to ignore it, and rolled over, so she was even closer to Sherlock Holmes, who was still sleeping soundly with and arm possessively wrapped around her. She smiled at the sight of him and snuggled even more against his chest.

"Molly?" A voice called her after the knocking stopped. There was another knock. "It's John. Mary asked me to come by, because she forgot something at your place a few days ago. A scarf of some sort."

Molly's eyes became wide open at the mention of John's name and she sat up quickly.

"Oh, crap," she muttered. Sherlock groaned beside her and weakly tried to pull her back down.

"Molly," he whined like a child, after her couldn't find any strength to put her back in the convenient position. It sounded strange and adorable in his deep voice. "Lie down."

"No, Sherlock," Molly said and jumped of the bed. Sherlock supported himself on his elbow and smirked slightly as her naked slim figure walked around the bedroom, trying to find her robe. "John is here."

"So?" Sherlock asked and sat up. "Leave him outside and come back to bed."

"I can't," she said as she put on her robe. "Ever since you were gone he becomes very paranoid if someone doesn't confirm to him that they're alright."

"Molly?" John's voice was heard once again. "Is everything okay?"

Molly gestured to the direction his voice was coming from, as if to say "understand now?"

"Yes, I am! Just a minute!" she called back and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess. It seemed like every strand was standing in a different direction. She gathered it up quickly and put a hair clip in them to make them look at least a little more decent. She jumped in surprise when Sherlock's arms wrapped themselves around her waist and he pressed his lips against her neck.

"Mm, you should wear your hair up more often, I just love you exposed neck," he muttered and Molly shuddered in delight, faintly considering the option of just going back to bed and leaving John paranoid, as Sherlock would ... Sherlock.

She slept with Sherlock Holmes. A man she loved for a very long time.

A man who was supposed to be dead.

And his best friend was on the other side of her door.

"You have to hide," she whispered.

"Why?" Sherlock asked and kissed his way down from her jaw to the shoulder.

"You are supposed to be dead, not sleeping with me," she said and smiled despite the situation, still not used to the fact they actually made out in St. Barts locker room and slept together. She felt Sherlock smile against her skin.

"Hm, but I do prefer the latter," he murmured. His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer, to make a point.

"But John is here," Molly said and John, who called her once again, made her point even clearer. Not to Sherlock, though.

"So?" he asked. "I have to tell him either way, so why not now?"

"Because we just had sex!" Molly exclaimed, starting to fail keeping her cool.

"So?"

"Oh, God, Sherlock, just hide in the closet and I'll get rid of him," Molly said and pushed Sherlock towards her closet. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the cliche of hiding in the closet, but obeyed her nonetheless. He caught his shirt she threw at him, trying to get it out of sight.

"Where are your pants?" she asked him.

"How should I know?" Sherlock asked and smirked. "You were the one who got rid of my clothes. Quite enthusiastically, I might add."

Molly blushed deeply and went to the door and opened them.

"Sorry for the wait, John," she smiled apologetically. "Um, Toby demanded his food and I couldn't find it."

"It's alright," John smiled. "Mary said she left a pink scarf here. She needs it for lunch today, because she's meeting with her sister-in-law and wants to look, I quote, _more decent than that good for nothing skank._"

"Sounds like her," Molly laughed. "Come on in. Sorry it's a bit more messy than usual."

"Thanks," John said, stepping in. "I see you finally started to get over Sherlock."

"Why?"

"There are a man's pants on the floor and I doubt they are yours," John said, sending her a meaningful look. Molly blushed even deeper at the sight of Sherlock's trousers on the floor of the living room.

"Oh, they're ... They're my brothers. Yeah, he decided to stay with me for a little while, since he and his girlfriend are fighting," she quickly came up with an excuse. "He's really sloppy."

"Not as sloppy as _he_ was," John laughed sadly. Molly sent him a sympathetic smile. He still couldn't bring himself to say Sherlock's name even though he would be yelling and the said man in matters of days, hours ... but hopefully not minutes.

"Um, I think the scarf must be in the bedroom," she said and he followed her to her room. She realized only then the bedroom was in a worse shape than ever. Her clothes from yesterday were on the floor and her panties on top of a pile of papers from work she had to file.

"Well," she sighed, trying to make a joke, "I guess my brother isn't the only messy person in my family."

John didn't comment and Molly started to get nervous as he got alarmingly close to her closet.

"I think it should be in here," she said and opened a drawer by the desk. She quickly threw her panties on the floor and opened a few drawers in hope to find that damn scarf and get rid of John.

"Oh, I remember where it was," she rambled on, happy she figured it out. "I put it in the closet ..."

Her teeth bit on her tounge to late to keep the words from escaping. Why couldn't she think this through?

Sherlock, who watched the scene from a small crack in the closet doors, glanced on the side and right next to his face was a pink silky scarf dangling from a hanger. _Damn it._

"Oh, this one?" John asked pointing to the closet. "May I?"

"No!" Molly exclaimed quickly. John looked at her puzzled, but retrieved his hand, which tried to open the closet door. Molly smiled apologizingly. "Heh, sorry, but the closet is even messier than the room. Why don't you wait in the living room and I'll ..."

"Nonesense, Molly," John laughed. "I'm sure it can't be worse than Mary..."

He opened the doors and became speechless only a moment after. For there was the only (supposingly dead) consulting detective standing in the middle of Molly's clothes, dressed only in a white shirt and boxers and holding up a pink scarf.

"I believe this is what you came for, John," he said and handed it to him, while sending Molly a disapproving look. The doctor took the scarf, still not believing his eyes.

"You ... I ... How ... What ..." he stammered.

"Hi John," Sherlock smiled a small, embarrassed smile, not knowing what else to say.

John has seen many of most disgusting wounds in his life. He's seen a field of corpses drowning in their own blood. He's even been strapped to a bomb once.

And he always managed to keep his cool.

And he could do it again.

But seeing his (possibly asexual) best friend come back from the dead and making every impression of looking like he had spent the night with the small pathologist, wasn't one of those times.

So from now on, the day Sherlock officially came back from the dead, also became the day John fainted for the first time in his life.

(A/N: so, this is a bonus chapter, which I simply couldn't resist writing :P hope you liked it!)


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